the great unknown

*Signe* · (This post was last modified: November 15, 2014, 11:33 AM by Signe.)

She was going to be in big, big trouble.

While Thistle Cloud was tending to Ragnar’s eye one afternoon, Liyaní had seized the opportunity to make a run for it. She wasn’t sure where she would go or if anyone would come looking for her. All she was really certain about was that she had so much frustration bottled up within her tiny body that she needed to run it off. Levi and Charon were napping when she made a dash from the den they all shared, and she could only hope that they wouldn’t wake and go searching for her until she was ready to come back.

She’d learned that wolves traveled in and out of the pack lands, but this would be the first time she’d ever attempted such a feat by herself. Needless to say, she was far too young to be doing so, but Liyaní didn’t know that. Oversized ebony paws scrambled clumsily through the brush and foliage as the girl bolted towards an unknown destination. Her milky blue eyes were wide with excitement and her tongue lolled joyfully from the side of her panting mouth. It was fun being on her own for the first time ever!

That was, until she made a wrong step and got her paw lodged between the roots of a bush she’d failed to notice. A sharp yelp sounded from the youngster as she tripped and tumbled forward down the sloping land. Her little form rolled through the brush and Liyaní panicked as she realized she couldn’t stop herself. Then, without notice, she was submerged in icy water. She’d plummeted from the top of a small crag into the frigid waters off the Totoka River.

Luckily the water wasn’t very deep and Liyaní was able to pull herself to safety. Still, she was soaking wet and freezing, and her left ankle ached uncomfortably. The dark-furred child whimpered as she dragged herself along the river bank, her ears pressed back against her skull. Fear seized her and she shook uncontrollably from the icy dampness that clung to her pelt. She’d managed to travel a fair distance from Stavanger Bay and was now hopelessly lost. Liyaní squeezed her eyes shut as she curled her small body into a ball, oblivious to the danger she’d put herself in by remaining alone and vulnerable out in the open.

Kierkegaard · (This post was last modified: November 16, 2014, 02:14 AM by Kierkegaard.)

Not really sure where my thread in OS is going, so I left this pretty vague. <3

The wound that had been festering on his hock had healed. Thanks to the assistance and patience from Caiaphas, the ashen brute was returning to his daily rituals. The male’s mentality had since found its way back to the roots where it had begun. Biting winds and the waning hours in the day seemed to carry a formidable sign of winter. It would not take long before snow would cover the Teekon wilderness and turn wolves into monsters. Of course, Kierkegaard was prepared for the worst of it. He had witnessed truly awful things in the span of his travels, and though he found himself skeptical about the honor of other wolves, he would have no choice but to cooperate.
Since having found that his leg would allow him to hunt once more, the pale ghost had spent a great deal of his time filling miscellaneous caches. With the weather still opening up to allow sunlight, as well as a surprising lack of snow on the ground, Kierkegaard found that it was far more useful to hunt than it was to roam around Ouroboros Spine. He had found himself growing fond of the territories that surrounded the pack, but the gypsy inside of him longed for an open road once more. He still thought about leaving it all behind.
Trotting along the riverside – a hare clasped tightly in his jaws – the male slowed his gait to a slow lope. Sharp orange-gold eyes trailed the edges of the water in search of a point where he could perch and fish without having to endure too much of the frigid liquid. It would not be long before he would be forced to abandon the fish and strike out in search of land mammals. Already, frost would linger on the edges of the river in a desperate attempt to remain relevant. The sun would eradicate it for several hours before darkness fell and the frost moved forward, providing a sure sign that the seasons were changing rapidly. Had it not been for the peculiar sound that stretched over the natural ambience around him, Kierkegaard would not have stopped.
Whimpering struck his long ears and the gruff creature stopped in his tracks, brows narrowed firmly on his skull. There was no sign of a full-grown wolf in the vicinity, and the tone of voice seemed to suggest that the creature was quite small. There was a moment in which the vagabond considered moving forward and returning home. His sharp eyes roamed effortlessly until he locked them on a small figure near the edge of the river.
Curiosity struck the creature first. With lengthy strides, Kierkegaard moved in the direction of the inky pup. When he had closed a majority of the distance between them, he lowered his skull towards the earth and huffed a deep breath through his nostrils. The pup smelled of a pack – though he cared very little for which one – and was quite young to be traveling on her own. Again, he considered leaving the creature there or providing a service in relieving the helpless thing of its life so that it would not have to endure the hardships any longer. But his caches were almost full and he had a fresh hare in his jaws. Dropping his catch to the dirt, the ghostly Sairensu male chuffed at the pup to check for signs of response. If the dark youngling was defective, deformed, or incapable in any way, he would leave it to the cold.

*Signe* · November 16, 2014, 03:22 PM

Liyaní had no idea that lone wolves or wolves from other packs could be dangerous to her. Her only thought about wolves were that they kept her company and looked after her; she’d never been taught to think anything different. Therefore when she was approached by a tall, pale-furred stranger, she didn’t flee. His chuff was met with a curious cant of the youngster’s head, but she didn’t move away from him. His strange, unfamiliar scent caused Liyaní’s leathery nostrils to flare.

Her eyes moved briefly to the male’s catch – the lifeless hare – lying nearby before her gaze shifted to his masculine façade once more. Normally asking for some regurgitated meat would have been on the top of her to-do list, but at the moment Liyaní’s primary concern was warming up. The small pup shivered as she lay soaking wet upon the riverbank. “’m cold,” she told the wolf quietly, trembling beneath the weight of his fierce gaze.

Kierkegaard · (This post was last modified: November 17, 2014, 03:18 AM by Kierkegaard.)

The inky youth was just that… young. The moment that her eyes were cast towards him and she did not flee, Kierkegaard knew well enough that she should not have been on her own, let alone soaked to the bone and struggling for warmth and life. Instinct told him that this was a pup who would not survive long in state he had found her. She had already made a mistake that would have cost her dearly, had he not appeared. In the time that it took for her to focus on his face and mutter a quiet “'m cold”, the ashen brute had gone through the options in his mind. He still found himself at a standstill.
There was a fleeting moment in which he imagined he could leave the dark-furred child to the wilderness. Another moment where he found himself wondering how he could assist her – if at all. Then, he was struck with a final thought… one that rattled his mind and forced him to re-think the options all over again. The Sairensu male was a creature of habit, and this final plan was well out of his limitations.
Fixing his gaze on the inky girl, he moved towards her with furrowed brows and a thick tuft of hair standing tall along his shoulders and neck. Flicking his tongue across the sides of his lips and muzzle, Kierkegaard drew his ears forward and peered intently at her. “Stand up,” he growled quietly, motioning with his muzzle away from the riverside. “Get away from the water.” He was not altogether sold on the idea that taking the pup with him would be wise, but he had no intention of escorting her home. If her condition said anything about her life at home, the lanky male was certain that she had been abandoned by her parents. It was likely that she did not have much of a home to return to. If the youngster was capable of following instruction, he would not leave her. He would do his best to make sure the frigid water was cleared from her short pelt. The ghost would even share his catch with her, granted that he did not have to chew much of it.
Then, he would take her to his home.

*Signe* · November 20, 2014, 11:37 AM

It was strange, but in that moment Liyaní spared no thought to her pack or her siblings or her caretakers who were bound to notice her absence sooner or later. The only thing that the sooty pup could think about was surviving. At that point in time, the pale-furred loner was her only means of having a chance of living. She was scared, wet, and freezing. The girl's tiny body trembled with a combination of fright and cold. Her only concern was warming up and feeling safe again.

The male's gruff command was met with a curious twist of the youngster's ears. Liyaní did not hesitate before scrambling to her paws, but it was then that she reminded of the injury she'd inflicted onto her foot before tumbling into the river. Wincing, she maneuvered away from the water's edge and slunk closer to the stranger's side. She would not press against him without his explicit permission for fear of the repercussions that might follow.

Liyaní gingerly lifted her sprained paw from the ground and whimpered at the man. "Owwie," she told him softly, showing him her left foot that she'd gotten stuck in some bramble roots. Although there was no outward sign of injury, the dull ache radiating from somewhere inside her ankle was more than enough to cause the pup discomfort.

Kierkegaard · November 23, 2014, 05:49 PM

Lol he's so confused about this whole thing... like; children? how? why are children a thing? :|
Also, minor powerplay... just PM me if you'd like me to change it?

The blood that ran through the male’s veins was cold. He did not know what fatherly love was, or how to tend to the bodies of children. He felt as though he had been born into the life of a vagrant adult, fit to wander and then disappear. Still, his parents had – in fact – tended to him when he had been young and unable to do it himself. Kierkegaard knew the scent of his mother though she had not been around long, and he knew the sharp eyes of his father… eyes that had been passed down to him. It would have made sense for the ashen-furred brute to have hated his parents, but his lifestyle allowed him to simply appreciate them. They had played their part in making sure he grew with the skills to tend to himself, and they had provided him with the means to craft his own future.
The youngster listened to him with a sharp accuracy, and Kierkegaard watched her with a molten stare as she scrambled to her paws and darted towards him. Though she was not close enough to press herself to him, the ghost could still feel the chill that echoed from her pelt. Craning his head down towards her, he blinked slowly at the paw that was presented before him. Not only was she drenched in frigid liquid, but she had managed to cripple herself either before or during the mishap that had tossed her down the river. Kierkegaard frowned at the dark-furred pup and breathed a sigh through his nostrils. He had not been able to tend to his own injury, and so he did not know how he could help her with hers. There was someone that he knew would be able to assist him… someone he had grown fond of in his time in the Teekon Wilds.
Turning slightly, the ghostly male brought his head towards the young girl and paused, looking at her with some trepidation. He was not suited for this. He could not tend to children and help them through their needs. However, his parents had not been suitable caretakers and he had turned out well enough. He was solitary and cold, but he could survive, and so that was all he had to do for the inky wolf he had found. If he could help her to survive, that would be the greatest gift of all.
“You will come with me,” he instructed her in a rumbling baritone, nodding his head towards her once. “We’ll get you warm and I will feed you.” Knowing well enough that the longer she was wet, the worse for wear she would be, Kierkegaard drew his head forward and began to clean the water from her skull and face with a slow wash of his tongue. He was careful not to touch the area where her paw was injured, and in a short matter of time, he had done well enough to get her cleaned off. “Do you know your name?” the male then inquired with an uncertain glance towards her small face. Then, towards the paw that she had presented him with. “Let’s go… hold that one up,” he told her with a frown, nudging the foot with his dark nose.

*Signe* · November 23, 2014, 06:05 PM

I LOVE IT THOUGH. :D The powerplay's fine!

There was something about the deep rumble of his baritone voice that comforted the inky pup. His presence instilled within her a sense of safety that she had not felt in quite some time. Although she was oblivious to his trepidation and doubts, she believed that the large wolf had been delivered to her to protect her. In her mind, nothing bad could come of her situation. There was no way for her to know the severity of what she had done. She could not predict that she would be separated from her siblings, her caretakers, and Stavanger Bay.

Liyaní understood the word "come" and knew that it meant the male wanted him to follow him, so she would. She rarely spoke to anyone in her pack and so her vocabulary was limited to the few broken words she exchanged with her brothers. Then, the wolf's tongue washed over her, warming her and ridding her of the unpleasant chill that had seeped down into her bones. Her ears twitched when he asked her a question, but Liyaní did not fully understand what he wanted her to say in response; no one in Stavanger Bay had ever asked her for her name before. She remained quiet and did not utter a reply to her new friend. Instead, she obeyed his command to follow him and did so with her injured paw lifted from the ground.

Kierkegaard · (This post was last modified: November 24, 2014, 12:23 PM by Kierkegaard.)

The dark female did not answer him, and though she was young, Kierkegaard found himself growing immediately frustrated by this. A huff fell from his lips and he flattened his long ears to his skull. In the grand scheme of things, Kierkegaard was a creature of few words. If the dark female had a very small vocabulary, he was certain that she would not grow drastically there. Already, he could see himself slipping away from the world that he had crafted. He had not felt the fear yet, but slowly it was rising in his gut. If the dark-furred youth did not have a name, that meant that he would be forced to call her something. Walking slowly so that she could walk beside him, the ashen-furred brute scowled at the landscape ahead of him. They would not be well-off in the cold, and certainly not near the river where she had already fallen in. He would not be fond of cleaning her pelt if she were to do it again.
Moving in the direction of the forest that was near to the shore, the ghostly male cast his gaze back towards the girl, making sure she was not falling behind. His mind whirled, forcing him to think on the future and what could potentially happen to the two of them. The girl had the scent of a pack on her pelt, but he did not care much for pack wolves. She had been abandoned to the wild by them, and so she no longer belonged to their creed. The inky youngster was his now, and almost suddenly the ash-furred male found himself incredibly territorial over her.
“Your name will be Signe,” he rumbled to her in a stern voice. “Do you understand? Signe,” he repeated to her, stopping in their walk so that she could sense the gravity of the situation. The meaning behind it was simple, like the creature that he toted along with him. Signe meant new victory.

*Signe* · November 23, 2014, 09:32 PM

She trailed behind him only by a short distance. Despite her injured foot, the girl was determined not to lose her new caretaker. An indignant determination had sparked within the depths of her lonely, broken soul. Instinct told her that she needed to keep up with him at all costs or risk losing her life. Mother Nature would deal the pup a cruel blow if she was left to freeze and starve in the unforgiving wilderness. She hobbled along after the male while trying her hardest not to pay attention to the pain radiating from her ankle. Thankfully the ashen wolf kept turning around to check on her, and every time he did she felt gratefulness spread through her veins.

A bewildered expression crossed her features when the man stopped and turned to face her. The manner in which he spoke to her made her understand that what he was saying was of great importance. One dark ear twitched to the side upon receiving his words. Her name was Signe? That didn't sound right, and it certainly wasn't what she was used to being called. The weight of his statement did not truly settle upon the black-furred youngster, but she bobbed her head in agreement anyways. It would take time, but eventually the name Signe would be the one she responded to, and Liyaní would become a fuzzy memory pushed to the darkest reaches of her mind.

Kierkegaard · November 24, 2014, 12:33 PM

Moz would not be happy with him. Kierkegaard was certain that his sister would despise the idea of him toting around a young child. Their lives were difficult enough as it was, but with one more mouth to feed, the ashen brute knew he would be fighting her to keep the child. It was not as though he felt like he owed it to the young pup. He was a savage man. It would have suited him more to have left her beside the river. Life was difficult and frightening, and it was of no concern to the ghastly male if an abandoned pup was whisked away in the mess of it. He could not explain what had compelled him to take her along with him – to claim her as his own. He had never had the makings of a father, but he did know of a wolf who tended to pups and had mended his hock after infection had settled in. Caiaphas would know what to do. And Kierkegaard no longer feared turning to the waif for assistance.
“Signe, we’re going to see Caiaphas. You will behave,” he spoke to her as though she were a delinquent, incapable of being able to function in the real world. More than that, however, he was certain that she did not understand much of what he said to her. Nonetheless, it would be wise to begin her linguistic skills at a young age. The man of few words knew that her experience with him would be difficult and astoundingly frustrating, but he believed it to have been a sign that she did not die. It was fate or destiny – possibly even coincidence – that had brought the survivalist to her. The wild was an unforgiving place, but she would learn that in time.
The male lumbered towards the borders of Ankyra Sound. His skull was held low to the earth and his breath came in great huffs. Every so often, he would remind himself to pause for the girl to allow her smaller legs to catch up with him. In spite of her turmoil, she was moving forward. This was, perhaps, the reason why he found the need to take her in. Her spirit reminded Kierkegaard of himself at that age. She would grow into an even stronger creature because of her strife.